


Who's the Princess now?

by Aragarna



Category: White Collar
Genre: Crack, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2018-05-31 03:38:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6453874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aragarna/pseuds/Aragarna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal is tired of being shot...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who's the Princess now?

“Man, that hurts!” Neal whined.

“I know buddy. Hold on here,” Peter said sympathetically. “And stop moving!”

“Why did I have to get shot _again_?”

“I’m sorry. You know this is ‘GSW prompt fest’,” Peter said, doing his best to stop the bleeding from the wound in Neal’s shoulder by pressing his hand on it. His friend was lying on the ground, and he had already lost a considerable amount of blood.

“But why does it have to be always me?”

Peter chuckled. “Because you’re the Princess and I’m your Knight.” Neal sent Peter an odd look. “Because you’re the pretty one. Look, I don’t know, ask the fans. That’s not my fault if they prefer you to get hurt and me to cuddle you.”

Neal growled. “Then, shouldn’t I be the Heroic Knight and you my Princess, healing my wounds after the battle?”

“I was more thinking along you being the Damsel in Distress and me your Saviour.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Eh I do have my whump page too!”

“Still, that’s not fair. Next time you could try harder and save me _before_ I take the bullet.”

“You know, you’re not fun when you’re hurt.”

“All the more reasons.”

Neal let go a plaintive moan, and Peter rested his free hand against his friend’s forehead.

“Shh. Calm down, Neal. Stop talking. Paramedics are on their way,” he murmured as he delicately moved a lock of hair from Neal’s sweaty forehead.

“Peter?”

“Yes, Neal.”

“Can you please stop playing with my hair?”

Peter quickly retrieved his hand. “Sorry buddy. I – I thought you liked it…”

“Actually not that much...”

“Cause you’re all grown-up,” Peter smirked.

“Yes I am. I’m… How old am I? My timeline is a bit fuzzy…”

“Shh, Neal please, spare your forces.”

Neal felt silent for a moment, his breathing harsh and hollow. Rain started to fall, heavy and cold.

“Oh that’s the just great. What do you think Peter? Pneumonia or hypothermia?”

“Someone is trying to make a Bingo,” Peter remarked.

That comment triggered Neal’s anger. “How can you take this all so lightly? I’m gonna die here!”

Peter gave Neal a reassuring smile. “No, you’re not. You’re gonna be just fine.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“There’s no warning up there.”

Neal sent Peter another side look.

“Just trust me,” Peter said.

This seemed to make Neal relax a little.

“Peter?”

“Yes, Neal?”

“Will you let me sleep in your guest room while I recover?”

Peter laughed. “We don’t have a guest room, Neal.”

“Oh…”

“I’m sorry. I know everyone wishes we had one, but that’s a small house… I’ll build one just for you, but it might take a while.”

“Really?” Neal asked, suddenly hopeful.

“No.”

“Oh.” Neal looked so genuinely disappointed that Peter’s heart flinched a little.

“Look, buddy. It’s not that -. It would be maybe a little too slashy… And I’m not… It’s a Gen ‘verse, okay?”

Luckily for him, Peter was saved from his ramble by the arrival of the ambulance. Paramedics quickly processed Neal, laid him on a gurney and rolled him to the ambulance.

“Peter!” Neal called.

Peter came close to the gurney and squeezed his friend’s hand. “I’ll be right behind you, Neal. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

Neal nodded and they lifted him into the ambulance. They closed the doors, started the siren, and made their way into the traffic.

“I’ll take that bullet for you next time. I promise,” Peter whispered as he watched the ambulance disappear.

He was about to cross the road to get to his car when a black van stopped in front of him, blocking the way. The side door opened right before Peter and a man dressed all in black and wearing a matching black hood jumped out, holding a large calibre into Peter’s face.

“Get in there,” the man ordered.

Peter held his hands up. “Seriously? Come on, guys, Kidnap Fest doesn’t start until another week… I was really hoping to finally have that sushi date with my wife… Not counting that my best friend has just been taken to the ER. I really need to go and see him.”

“Get in the car.”

Peter sighted, resigned. This was going to be another long story…

The End  



End file.
